


The Great Pumpkin Incident

by orphan_account



Series: October Fic-A-Thon [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Injury, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith has, frankly, a pathetically distracting crush on Lance’s friend Hunk. So distracting in fact that while carving pumpkins he manages to slice his hand open. Lucky Hunk is there to give him a ride to the ER. …lucky. …Keith would rather be left to bleed out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of my October Fic-A-Thon.

Keith had never wanted to curl up into a ball and just die like he did in that moment. Or maybe not literally die and maybe that was just the blood loss talking but, seriously, fuck his life. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his, admittedly foggy, brain around how this could have happened to him. Or, rather, not so much how it happened as ‘why did it have to happen in front of *him*’

Speaking of him, Hunk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wincing visibly. “Are you still feeling okay?”

“Well,” Keith said slowly as his eyes fell back to his wrapped up hand and the red splotch spreading over the wadded up gauze. “I cut my hand open.” 

“Yes.” Hunk agreed solemnly, so painfully serious but with an adorable edge of concern and panic underneath. Keith wanted to kiss him. “You did.” 

It was shameful, really. Keith was great with knives. He was in culinary school for fucks sake and it wasn’t like cutting open a pumpkin so he could drop a tea light inside should have been a super involved task or anything. He’d been carving pumpkins yearly since Shiro had declared him his best friend back in middle school and started dragging him to the annual halloween party. This year shouldn’t have been any different. 

Except for him. Fucking Hunk Hunk Garrett and his stupid wonderful smile and perfect beautiful laugh and warm comforting hugs and practicality and honesty and the sly way he talked shit about Shiro and Lance and how stupidly smitten with each other they were. There was just...it wasn’t...he had no right! No fucking right to be so goddamn perfect and

Wait. 

Was he talking out loud? 

Again?

“Yes. Yes you are.” Hunk said stiffly, mouth pressed into a thin line. Keith cringed and started to reach to pinch the bridge of his nose, a nervous gesture he’d picked up from Shiro then stopped. Because, duh, his hand. 

That he had cut open. Because of Hunk. Because Hunk had walked in with Lance, still in his mechanic coveralls from the waist down but a white t-shirt from the waist up, face and hands smudged with grease, laughing and grinning as he headed straight for kitchen sink, and the industrial grade soap Shiro kept there. He’d aimed a particularly heart destroying smile at Keith and then It had happened. It had been quick, he hadn’t even felt it and still wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he was wondering why he was too much of a wuss to say something to Lance’s awesome friend and the next everyone had been screaming and crowding around him. 

There hadn’t been any pain til he’d been bent over the sink, hand forced under the faucet, and saw the long bleeding gash in his hand. Then, rather amazingly, the pain had kicked in. Hard and suddenly he was screaming too. 

They got him wrapped up with gauze and hand towels then pushed out towards a car. But not just any car oh no. Hunk’s car, because he was the last one in the driveway. Naturally he’d refused to get into the car and when Shiro had demanded to know why he had, in what clearly a shock induced moment of truth, blurted the only thing he could: “Because he’s hot.” 

That had earned him various unimpressed looks, a very real sneer from Pidge, and then he’d been shoved into the car. 

He’d been mortified, of course, tried to sputter out anything that made any kind of sense to explain what he’d said but Hunk had shushed him. And that had kind of went well until he’d started babbling about how awesome Hunk was. 

And, seriously, just kill him now. 

“The idea is to save you from dying, actually.” 

Keith groaned and slumped against the door. “I think I’d rather bleed out.” 

“Oh.” Hunk said and Keith thought he could hear a smile in his voice. “I can’t take you out to dinner if you’re dead, for the record. I have a strict no zombie policy.” 

Keith turned to look at Hunk and blinked. Then blinked again. “You...want to take me to dinner? Me? After this?” 

Hunk glanced at him quickly then laughed quietly. “Maybe not right after? You’re probably going to need stitches and you’ll be drugged up I bet. But in a general sense, yeah. Dinner would be good. ...without our friends, preferably. Or sharp objects.” 

“Oh.” Keith said dumbly. “Well. Okay. We...we will have to do that.”

"But not if you're a zombie." Hunk insisted. "Standards, you know?" 

Keith wasn't sure what kind of standards included 'hopeless guy who stabbed himself' but he wasn't about to argue against himself. So instead he nodded and promised to be very much alive. 


End file.
